The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

“No,” she said and just that quickly, he saw her anger drain away. She put her elbows on the table, leaned her forehead against her fists. “No,” she said again, “neither do I.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Caleb rose, tore a paper towel from a roll that hung over the sink, and gave it to her.

“Sage,” he said softly, squatting down beside her, “I’m sorry.”

She took the towel from him, blew her nose loudly.

“No, it’s not your fault. I dropped this thing on you like a—like a brick. I know you’re—you’re trying to process it.”

Caleb pulled his chair next to hers, sat, reached for her hands and clasped them tightly in his.

“Look, we’re both new to this.”

“The understatement of the year,” she said with a watery laugh.

“But we’ll learn.” He smiled, leaned forward, let go of one of her hands so he could tuck a stray curl back from her temple. “Heck, look how much I just learned. No caffeine. Honey. Herbs. I mean, you’re looking at a guy who thinks that all you need in a kitchen is a coffeepot, a couple of stale bagels, some cream cheese that hasn’t gone green and a stack of takeout menus.”

She laughed. It was a real laugh this time, and he wanted to cheer. Instead, he moved her tea mug so it was in front of her.

“Come on. Take a sip. Good. And another. Excellent. Are you hungry? Shall I make you something to eat?”

“Caleb—”

“No? Okay. Just the tea, then—”

“Caleb.” She put down the mug down. “What you said. About us having to talk …”

“Yeah.” He sat back. “We do.”

Sage nodded. “I just want you to know—I mean, I truly don’t expect—”

“Listen,” he said, “we’re two adults. We have to deal with this.”

Another bob of her head. Okay. This was progress. They were both calmer. Much calmer. He certainly was.

All his anger …

It hadn’t been about her or even about him, it had been about not knowing the next logical steps to take, and that was rough. Law school. The Agency. His successful practice. Logical choices for a logical approach to life.

She pushed back her chair. “Just give me a minute.”

“No. We can’t keep putting this off.”

“Lesson two about pregnancy,” she said with a quick smile. “It makes you pee a lot.”

“Oh,” he said again. That seemed to be his word of the day.

He watched her walk out of the kitchen. She was so damned proud. So determined not to need him or anybody else.

Dammit, what was he supposed to do next?

He knew the legal choices. But what about feelings? Emotions? No way to tuck them into neat legal categories.

He heard the toilet flush. Heard water run in the sink. Heard the bathroom door open.

Sage walked into the kitchen.

She’d washed her face. Combed her hair.